Something to Sleep To
by fishgirl1
Summary: After waking up in Spike's crypt yet again, Buffy does some overdue contemplating and gets some closure. (R for a few cuss words)


"Something to sleep to "  
  
author: Fishgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I own Buffy like I own a Parisian Monkey with a glass eye.  
  
  
  
The moon's beams poured unto the bed. Rolling over, reflecting off the satin sheets and pouring over the couple's skin. Golden and stunning like the sun and the gorgeous paleness of milk like the moon. One lay with death on his skin, and the other with just death.  
  
Buffy stirred and her eyes slanted open. She was taken back for a second when she realized where she was -- Even though it was her feet that lead her there; and her knuckles that rapt on the door; and her lips that made the first move. It was the same thing every time- and boy, were there times. She exhaled through her nose and tugged the sheet over her tiny, vulnerable bones; wondering how she could have let it happen and disgusted that she *had* let it happen. Again.  
  
She slid out of bed and quietly slipped on the bright blue nightgown she had worn on the way over. It's animal attraction, she told herself. It was her excuse. She scurried on the dusty floor to find her other sandal. Why else would she get involved with him? She paused in her pursuit for the missing foot ornament and cocked a perfectly well groomed eyebrow. Involved? She thought, She wouldn't use the word 'involved'… maybe—she reached under a table she never noticed before, and pulled the sandal out- - 'had dirty, secret relations with'.  
  
She slid the sandals unto her feet and hunted for her coat. Ah, here. She pulled it over her arms and was about to step out when she noticed an estranged strand of blond hair swinging in front of her eye. She tried to blow it off, but nothing doing, so she hastily tucked it behind her ear. The thought popped into her head and made her face sour even more. She had the hair. The hair you wouldn't be caught dead in, especially in Sunnydale 'after hours'. Damnit! She stomped her foot, she had crazy, sex hair.  
  
"Slayer," Spike mumbled, face down into the pillow.  
  
Fuck, she ran a hand through her atrocious new do, He's awake.  
  
"What is it, Spike?" she asked impatiently.  
  
He didn't even move before muttering, "Keep it down." Then falling back asleep.  
  
That little scene injected a smile unto her face for millisecond, before the idea of Dawn seeing her with such hair- - and TV is so informative, she thought smugly- - tugged the corners of her mouth back down.  
  
Brush, she thought. I have to find out where Spike keeps his brush.  
  
"Hey Spike, where'd you keep your brush?" she boomed.  
  
The vampire frowned in his state of half-sleep and raised a finger to the corner. Buffy smiled, keeping a hand on the crown of her head and walking to the area.  
  
Brush, brush, brush… she looked over the table and got her hand in something sticky. "Eew," she muttered, pulling her palm a centimeter from her nose to sniff on it. "Ugh," She wrinkled her nose. She didn't even want to guess what that was.  
  
Back to the brush- where could it be? She found a tiny pencil case-like object and unzipped it. A tube of Bright Whites and a toothbrush. It sunk in and she growled feraly. Stupid Spike.  
  
"I didn't mean *this*," she hissed, but his snoring overrode her voice.  
  
She shoved the objects back in and stood up. It was three in the morning and Dawn probably wasn't even awake. It didn't matter, she told herself. Even if Dawn *was* awake, Buffy would yell the teen into her room quickly before the hair question arose.  
  
She remembered all the flak she had given the younger girl for coming back with such wayward, obviously make-out produced hair.  
  
"Nothing happened." Dawn had assured her.  
  
"Of course"- Buffy pulled a leaf entangled in her hair- "I mean, obviously…"  
  
"Buffy, I'm not you." Her sister said stingingly.  
  
Buffy had been taken back. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Oh Please! I am *not* getting into this!"  
  
"You brought it up! You might as well!"  
  
"Fine! I could hear you and Riley, okay? I could *hear* you! *And* I would see Angel crawl in through you window!"  
  
"That's not the same! You're not mature enough!"  
  
"I'm turning *sixteen*! You were sixteen when you'd make with the kissy with Angel!"  
  
"And did you see how terrible that ended up?"  
  
"I'm not dating any vampires!"  
  
"Who said anything about *Vampires*?!"  
  
"YOU! Youyouyouyouyou!"  
  
"Stop it! Go to your room!"  
  
  
  
Buffy made a silent note to give her sister a gold star for patience. Spike's snoring was drowned out by the sound of the crickets at night. She shut the door and made her way home.  
  
Vamp activity had been low for the past few months, which either meant nothing at all or something really bad. Xander called it the 'off season'. Dry leaves swirled around her ankles and made them itch. She rubbed one against the other and paused for a minute.  
  
"Oh!" she covered her nose. "*What* is tha-" Her face collided with the vampire's punch- knocking her to the ground.  
  
"Buffy," it growled, baring its fangs.  
  
Buffy leaned on her elbows and touched her cheek. "Well that's not exactly fair," she began, pouting. "We're already on a first name basis and I don't know yours."  
  
It towered over her, and her foot kicked out and up violently- - catching it in an awkward position. It wheezed and Buffy sprang to her feet.  
  
"Now," she purred, "What's your name little guy?"  
  
"Oh Fu-!" The Vampire groaned, clutching itself.  
  
She kicked it again and pulled a stake out of her coat. "Looks like the name game stops here." She said, going in for the kill. It grabbed her fist and twisted it.  
  
Buffy shrieked and withdrew the injured hand- dropping the stake.  
  
"Looks like I broke your hand." It muttered.  
  
"Yeah," Buffy agreed. She suddenly kicked out and caught his torso. "The foot's still in tact though."  
  
The Vampire hissed in pain. "God, why do you reek so much?" Buffy pulled the bad hand over her nose.  
  
It snarled and stared up at her.  
  
"I could say the same thing," he chuckled, before his face grew stoic. "You have the smell of one of us all over you."  
  
Buffy winced and pressed her sandal-clad foot to his chest. "I think you die now." She said.  
  
The wooden heel imbedded itself into his chest and he screamed. There was a pause. "Oh," It wasn't deep enough. Buffy left the shoe and walked over to a tree, snapping a thin branch. "Actually, *Now* you die." She added it into the wound and vamp dusted. She slipped her foot into the sandal and continued her walk home.  
  
"What *is* with you and Spike?" someone asked out loud.  
  
Buffy whipped around and was faced with a female vampire. "And I thought vamp activity was on the fritz because?" she muttered under her breath.  
  
"Lemme guess, you miss your old beau?" The raven-haired girl asked, her skin was like chocolate in the street light, and her lips were stained with fresh blood.  
  
"Listen to miss too much time on her hands." Buffy punned, "How do you know about Spike?"  
  
The Vamp laughed slyly and put a hand over a strap of her animal print dress.  
  
"We're just acquaintances, really." She murmured seductively.  
  
A pang of unexpected jealousy washed over Buffy. "Like I care," she said calmly.  
  
"Do you?" the vamp asked. Buffy frowned.  
  
"The name's Tigra," she introduced herself, "Just wanted to see which buttons really pushed the slayer."  
  
"And here I though you were just being friendly."  
  
"Spike's a good boy," Tigra said smoothly, "He can teach you things," Her bony hand traveled down and sat dangerously close to her crotch. "Delicious things."  
  
"I'll tell him you said 'hi'," Buffy interjected, growing a wee bit uncomfortable. "Can we fight now?"  
  
Tigra put on her game face. "It's a date."  
  
The two lunged at each other. Buffy swung a punch and the other girl tore viciously with her talon-like nails. The punch knocked the vampire to the side and Buffy's blood dripped unto the pavement. She watched in dull horror as the vampire gazed at the flesh on her fingernails and hungrily sucked on it in delight.  
  
"You're sick," Buffy stated. Tigra gasped, a new driven look in her eyes. "Join the club," She kicked out and made Buffy trip. She crawled over and licked at the flowing blood on the slayer's arms.  
  
"I think not-" Buffy punched her away.  
  
"So that's why he wants you," The vampire groaned, "He wants all that blood for himself!"  
  
Buffy found her old stake on the floor and tossed it at the vampire. Tigra gasped and stared at her chest.  
  
"You bit-" She didn't have time to complete the sentence before dusting.  
  
Buffy panted on the floor for a second and let her head fall back. What the hell was that? The Spanish Inquisition? She rested her injured but not completely broken hand over her forehead. Damn Vampires and their nagging instincts.  
  
The thought of the previously undead Vampire's question ran through her mind. That and the fact that she was laying on the sidewalk in a nightgown and newly dirty coat.  
  
Perhaps she *had* been putting off the answer to the question. Maybe because she was afraid that it would have to lead to a serious relationship. One where her partial scorn for Spike was no longer allowed. Where everyone would have to know, and have to accept. Was that selfish of her? She thought. To force them to accept that Spike was her new man and that maybe- just maybe- a little piece of her heart was his new playground? Would they understand that he was seriously, obsessively, in a totally Drusilla-esque way, consumed by her? That maybe even she was a teensy bit (though she'd never admit to it) into him?  
  
She sighed in frustration. Yeah, they would. They'd have to. Not because they had no choice, but because they loved her. And didn't *she* owe it to them to tell the truth?  
  
So what was the problem? Did she hate Spike that much to continually pushing him away? Did she love him that much enough to not tell anybody? What was it? Why was she with him at all?  
  
He was certainly no Riley. No big strong brute who fawned over her. No college boy with whom she shared the same kind of life with—not to mention the age-wise zip code.  
  
He was also no Angel. No guy with who part of her heart would always belong to. The guy who loved her so deeply that it meant that he would die living without her (for 'her own good').  
  
He was Spike. The guy who plotted again and again to destroy her and her friends and almost succeeded a handful of times. The guy she would have killed had she been left to decide. The guy her mother had trusted more than her soulmate for unknown reasons. The guy who genuinely cared about her and Dawnie. The evil insidious Spike. The Spike whose bed she had slept in for months.  
  
Maybe it was because she just needed someone. She had always had someone by her side. Someone who would kiss her troubles away and make her forget. And now she had Spike. It was wrong for her to categorize him as merely a thing to replace an empty void- but what else was there to go with? She didn't love him… Her eyes blinked open at the rain. She hadn't even noticed it. She was soaking wet.  
  
She pulled herself up and started walking.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Buffy," Spike was greeted by a very drenched slayer. She stepped in and he shut the door. "Wasn't expecting you in a while."  
  
"D'you leave something?" He asked.  
  
She stared into his eyes.  
  
"Is something wrong? Something happen to Dawn?"  
  
She stepped up to him and placed a tender kiss on his lips. Her body softened in his arms and she placed her head on his chest.  
  
A puzzled look stayed on Spike's face as he held the slayer. A look which he shrugged off when he noticed her dripping all over him.  
  
"Let's get you out of these clothes." He said into her hair.  
  
"And then what?" Buffy asked mischievously.  
  
"And then we dry you up." He said.  
  
Buffy pulled out of his arms and stared at his solemn expression. She smiled slightly and leaned against him.  
  
"Good idea."  
  
They stayed that way for another minute.  
  
"You know it's harder to undress you with you clinging to me," Spike spoke up. "Personal Experience," He said holding his right hand up.  
  
Buffy laughed and slapped his arm with her newly rejuvenated hand.  
  
In truth she still didn't know what to make of Spike. She didn't know if it would last, or if she would tell people, or if she truly did love him.  
  
He helped her slide out of her clothes and get into bed. His cool arms wrapped around her tiny shoulders.  
  
And then again, she really didn't mind not knowing. Because the hard truth was, she had never been so fine with her life. Even with Willow doing the dark thing and Anya doing the Anya thing and Giles being gone and She herself not knowing what she was—she had found a certain peace. Something most Slayers never even got to get a glimpse of. She had found contentment. Something that had managed to get by her for a long time. It didn't matter that Spike wasn't perfect, or that she may or may not really want to be with him.  
  
The thing was, Spike gave her something to sleep to.  
  
The moon's beams rolled over and reflected off the satin sheets, and poured over the couple's skin. Golden and stunning like the sun and the gorgeous paleness of milk like the moon. One lay with death on his skin, and the other with renewed life.  
  
end 


End file.
